Not Nearly Enough
by Kay Taylor
Summary: HarryHermione. A scarf, a kiss, and regrets.


She's had the scarf nearly five weeks now, and she doesn't know how to give it back. Such a simple thing, really, and she knows that if she gave it to Ron or left it over a chair in the Gryffindor common room that would be it. and it wouldn't hang at the foot was his own stupid bloody trunk. But of course they hadn't left him, and Hermione's hands were ice around Crookshanks's travel box.  
  
And before the final, desperate run to Hogsmeade station, Harry had picked two scarves off the floor. One was soaking wet. He'd looked over, and carefully wrapped the dry scarf around her neck, close enough for her face to be surrounded by the cloud of his breath on the chill air. And he'd smiled. Such a smile.  
  
But now Hermione doesn't know what to do with it. She'd worn the scarf on the train home, even after changing into Muggle clokay, it was his own stupid bloody trunk. But of course they hadn't left him, and Hermione's hands were ice around Crookshanks's travel box.  
  
And before the final, desperate run to Hogsmeade station, Harry had picked two scarves off the floor. One was soaking wet. He'd looked over, and carefully wrapped the dry scarf around her neck, close enough for her face to be surrounded by the cloud of his breath on the chill air. And he'd smiled. Such a smile.  
  
But now Hermione doesn't know what to do with it. She'd worn the scarf on the train home, even after changing into Muggle clothes, taking the warmth of that smile back with her. A Gryffindor scarf like any other - the wool slightly coarse against her face, smelling of smoke from the common-room fire, and soap. And Harry, she realised once she'd got it home. And Harry. It was only later that night she'd taken it off and turned it over, found the name-tape, Mrs Weasley's tidy hand-writing. She'd stood there for a good half an hour, wondering if he had _meant_ to give it to her.  
  
As it turned out, he hadn't. It had been a complete accident - out of the goodness of his hear, he'd have rather seen his best friend wear a dry scarf on the long train journey home. But the scarf still smells of him, and Hermione doesn't know if she'd be able to bear giving it back. And of course she can't _wear_ it, walk all over Hogwarts with that name-tape hanging around her neck. So it hangs on the edge of the bed, something she can't move, something she doesn't want to keep.  
  
It wouldn't be so bad if she even knew where she stood, she thinks. But the problem with the scarf is that she'd kissed Harry after the last Quidditch match of term, and she doesn't know what happened. It wasn't as though it was bad. But it wasn't as though it was good, either, and when they'd parted, breathing unsteady, she couldn't look at him in case he'd felt it, too.  
  
He hadn't.  
  
And when he kissed her again, it made her heart clench because this was _Harry_, the boy she'd spent the last year thinking about, and the fact that he was her best friend just made it worse. But she remembers his tongue, all eager and wet and far too slippery, and the way he'd pulled at her hair. For a first kiss, it was pretty terrible, she thinks angrily, and then feels ashamed of herself for thinking that, when Harry can be so _sweet_.  
  
Passing notes in Charms that always make her laugh, even if she does have to be stern with him afterwards. Coming over to talk to her after a match, flushed and warm, and squeezing her so tight that she can practically feel the joy inside him.  
  
Giving her the scarf.  
  
Sometimes she thinks about losing it deliberately, somehwere near the Slytherin dungeons where it'll never find its way back to him. Because she doesn't want it, but she doesn't want anyone else to have it either, this last little bit of him that she still - truly - loves.  
  
Sometimes she thinks about burning it. A simple incendio would do it, and it would be beautiful, so red and gold in the flames, ash and smoke and crumbling, and she could scatter it from the highest tower, and not have to think about it all ever again.


End file.
